The Great Midnight Larder Raid of 45 Who: Deidre "Dee" Aisli, Imenry Barras Guest Starring: Dustbin Where: Larder, Vigil's Keep, Amaranthine When: Midnight, 12 Molioris, 9:45, a day before The Joining Rating: PG-13 just in case Status: COMPLETED Summary: Deidre craves a sandwich. Shenanigans occur. She gets caught engaging in said shenanigans.
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The hour was late, a new day heralded by the quiet sound of the sea breeze blowing in from a window left open in an effort to stem the summer's heat. It was quiet in Vigil's Keep, with the Wardens' night watch guarding the fortress silently outside while the rest of its constituents slumbered within or made their way into their rooms for the evening. It had been hours since dinnertime, long moments since the Wardens and their companions have broken up for the day to catch some much needed rest -- and as shadows lengthened along with the flickering braziers that kept most of its halls securely lit, a shadow moved quietly through the hall and headed down the stairs.
To Deidre Aisli, Insomnia was an old friend. After days spent alone on expeditions she funded herself, those times have impressed upon her the importance of keeping vigilant while on the road and as such she learned how to sleep lightly and wake at a moments' notice. It was only, perhaps, Andraste's providence that she got any rest at all moving about the way she did, but if it was a gift or an acquired skill she certainly wasn't complaining. The ability to do so saved her life or sanity more times than she could count off the top of her head. The only thing she would change about it would be to become just as capable of sleeping soundly when she was in a place like the Order's near-impregnable fortress, where her safety was largely guaranteed.
Alas, it wasn't meant to be. Additionally, the growling deep in the pits of her stomach wasn't helping matters at all.
On any other season, it would've been much colder in her present environs, but Ferelden's weather typically pendulumed between extreme heat and bitter cold. The summers could be especially brutal. Despite wearing just a sleeveless shirt and a pair of what have been black tights in its past life (with its legs cut off... an attempt to fashion some modest underwear for herself), a fine mist cultivated from the humidity sheened her slightly tanned skin and pooled at the sensitive dip of her collarbones. It was hot enough that she had been forced to pull her dark tresses up in the messy topknot that she favored, stray chocolate wisps clinging against her cheekbones as she pulled a torch from the wall and moved further to her destination. The larder's door loomed over her in the quickly dispelled shadows, cowering wraiths fleeing from the borrowed light she carried.
Looking from left to right, Deidre unlatched the door and let it swing inward. The sudden sound of hardened clay crashing onto the ground brutally invaded her senses, along with something frantic and furry flying out of the darkness and latching onto her face.
"AUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGHHHHHHHHH!!!!!"
She nearly dropped the torch, her free hand flailing helplessly as the fortress's black cat (a stray, one of the Wardens explained to her a day or so prior, that one of their own managed to adopt and had since then become the Keep's unofficial mascot) launched itself off her and scrambled away, leaving her to deal with the evidence of its crime.
"Nicodemus!" the would-be cleric groaned after it, her hand flying up to her chest and feeling the rapid pounding of her heart against her ribcage. "Go...find mice!"
She caught her breath and looked at the mess left behind. An earthenware jar full of flour had been broken by the cat, fine white dust spilled onto the dark stone floor. Biting back a curse, she hooked her light into a copper holder installed on one of the larder's walls. Fetching a broom, she grumbled under her breath, sweeping up the detritus of spent pottery on the ground as well as its contents. A foot extended, to push the larder door....not fully closed, but somewhat ajar to notify anyone who could be passing that there was someone in there. If anything, the midnight hour for her wouldn't be spent idle, and now that she was inside, she desperately craved a sandwich.
Long strokes from the broom worked to tidy up the mess. Glancing surreptitiously over her shoulder and ascertaining that she was alone, her work became more exaggerated -- more flourished. She wielded the cleaning apparatus as if it were a dance partner, sliding across the floor as she started dusting the rest of it as well, while she was at it. While her status as a guest was well-known and noted by the others inside the building, she was bored enough to take it upon herself to do a chore. She might as well do something useful.
Deidre hopped on one side, spinning on her heel and dipping the broomstick in front of her. Sweeping the bristles back upwards and sending a cloud of flour drifting in the air, she continued to sweep. Her head whipped around, arms and legs working on concocting the most ridiculous dance number she could muster. Maker help anyone passing by now, because when dancing occurred....
"...to the right!" she suddenly blurted out, leaping onto the other side of the room and dramatically pointed to the aforementioned direction. "To the left! We will fight...to the death! To the edge...of rebirth! It's a brave new world from the last to the first..."
She pushed forward, landing her knee on a spare cloth used to polish the floor, forcing herself to slide across the room yet again. A heel braced upon the hard surface, rising up while pivoting on one side. Her ankle hooked into the broomstick, causing her to spin out and twirl with it to the eastern corner of the room. She unfolded from it and pointed to another shadow as her improvised performance continued. Overall, it was somewhat difficult to describe, the woman clearly had a talent for moving, but the fact that she was alone and waltzing energetically with nothing but a broom and her own shadow made everything look patently ridiculous.
Then again, by the way she was so joyously going about her work, it was also apparent that she didn't give a damn if it did.